


Vampires Get Low Blood Sugar, Too

by Mistressaq



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: Activism, Coming out of the coffin, F/F, Human/Vampire Relationship, Murder, Protests, Vampires, quarantine fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:29:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24673120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mistressaq/pseuds/Mistressaq
Summary: “Who, who’s there?” croaks the crying girl.Katya takes a breath. “I uh, I live in the neighborhood. I get trouble sleeping. I like to walk around to clear my head.” She pauses, and the crying girl doesn't say anything. “Anyway I couldn’t help but hear. Are you in danger, girl? Do you need help?”“Oh,” she sniffles. “I don’t think so.”“Something you want to get off your chest?”Or out of your chest,hissed the Demon in Katya’s head. Why had she ever let herself get this thirsty?
Relationships: Trixie Mattel/Katya Zamolodchikova
Comments: 12
Kudos: 80





	1. Meat Cute

**Author's Note:**

> hey i wanted an escape so i did a drabble (prepare for tense changes and missing apostrophes) where Katya is a vampire who procrastinated feeding and experiences the vampiric version of hypoglycemia.
> 
> tw for murder bc... vampire. (it do be brief)

She was so _thirsty_ it was actually making her worried she’d get in trouble. She hasnt been this thirsty since the old days, before she had any control. Oh, her throat, her tongue, on fire. Oh her fingernails and teeth sharpening painfully, her body transforming her into a beast by the hour. Katya _had_ to feed. She was going to lose control. But she had to still be careful. She still had to choose wisely and dispose of the body properly. Katya is past the point of believing she’s strong enough to keep herself from draining her victim dry. Her strength is weak and her senses sting, nerves making her jumpy. She feels the urge to growl, to crouch and pounce on the next hot blooded being that crosses her path. 

But she can’t. 

Instead, she heads to a park she hasn’t hunted at before, hoping for a vagrant, a runaway teen or two. She brought cigarettes, she will ask someone for a light. And they’ll give her one, and she’ll talk to the person for a while and then she’ll turn to leave…

Katya stops abruptly when she senses the park is empty but for one woman. Early twenties, had been drinking, but wasn’t drunk enough. She was making little choking noises and for a moment Katya feared she’d encroached on someone else feeding on her. Until she heard the distinct murmur through what she now realized were tears: _“_ _I still love you.”_

Katya's heart breaks, even as her throat starts to lubricate in anticipation. She shoves her hands in her armpits and pads her way over, more concerned for the poor girl than anything. She isn’t thinking right, so she walks right on over to the crying woman, making sure to keep a six foot distance. As if that would make a difference somehow. “Hey,” she says. The girl doesn’t hear over her sobbing. Even in this dark, Katya recognizes the girl has blonde hair and is wearing pink. To the side of the swingset are a pair of matching pink pumps, which likely belonged on this girl’s now bare feet. 

Katya clears her throat— a mistake, as it results in a coughing fit, her dry insides crying out for care. 

“Who, who’s there?” croaks the crying girl, looking up.

Katya takes a breath. “I uh, I live in the neighborhood. I get trouble sleeping. I like to walk around to clear my head.” She pauses, and the crying girl doesn't say anything. “Anyway I couldn’t help but hear. Are you in danger, girl? Do you need help?”

“Oh,” she sniffles. “I don’t think so.”

“Something you want to get off your chest?” _Or out of your chest_ , hissed the Demon in Katya’s head. Why had she ever let herself get this thirsty?

The girl makes some noises, and starts by saying her boyfriend dumped her. “And I can’t say I blame him,” she sobs. 

Katya needs to get close enough to wipe the tears from her face. A tear or two. That will drown her demon. She definitely can’t entrance the girl in her anemic state. “What is your name, lovely?” she asks. 

The girl seems to blush a little, and she considers for a moment. Probably guessing wether or not she can trust Katya. 

_You shouldn’t_ , Katya thinks at her. _You don’t deserve to die_ _._

“Trixie,” says the girl. She prods her foot against the dirt below her swing. “I’m called Trixie.”

“Then Trixie,” says Katya, earning a glance up from the girl. She has blue eyes that shine in the dim light of a streetlamp. “Mind if I join you?”

Trixie nods and motions to the swing next to her. 

Katya starts to talk about a breakup of hers. It was with her sire, a lovely Russian woman who treated her like shit. Katya was so ensorcelled by her maker, the one person who had shown her a kind of love she’d never dreamed of, she could not imagine she was worth more than eternal indentured servitude. When the woman grew tired of Katya and made herself a new servant, Katya had been heartbroken, and much like Trixie now. Though, far more bloodthirsty. 

Speaking of: a rasp clawed its way up from her abdomen to her throat and she coughed. It must have sounded sickly, because Trixie stopped her weeping, clenching her hands around the chain of her swing, suddenly very wary. “You okay?”

Katya punched herself in the breastbone. “Good, I’m good.” 

Trixie relaxed, her face still serious. “D’you swallow a fly?”

Katya held out her hands. “Guess I’ll die.”

The sound that came out of Trixie was a light-hearted scream, perforated like a laugh. Katya jumped at the sudden noise and thanked the darkness for concealing how her nails and fangs snapped to attention. 

“Did I just scare you?” Trixie asked. “I’m so sorry, I can’t laugh like a normal person.”

Katya regained control, biting back the speech impediment that came with her fangs. “It’s alright,” she said. “But I should get going.”

“Mm, okay,” Trixie said, sounding almost disappointed. “I should probably go…”

Katya stilled. “You don’t _live_ with the boy who ended things.”

Trixie’s bent posture and low shoulders spoke for her. 

Katya ran her hand down her scalp. _Why do you care??_ Snapped the Demon. _Eat her!!!_

Katya pursed her lips. “Okay. You… stay here. In this area. I’ll be right back. Let me get some stuff ready, you can crash on my couch.”

“I can’t—“

“It’ll be safer than loitering around in the middle of the night,” Katya lies. Her fangs are creeping back again. “I have to, uh, I’ll be right back.”

It takes all her power to keep her pace to a human jog as she leaves Trixie’s line of sight. As soon as she is safe, she dashes to the old faithful bridge. Just as always, there are a few vagrants balled up underneath the structure, asleep. She hates doing this, that’s how she was able to put it off for so long. She hates preying on vulnerable people. She does the poor bastard the kindness of snapping his neck before taking him away to drain him. 

Her strength restored, Katya takes him to a nearby construction site and buries the body in the dirt. She says a blessing, not really knowing if it counts since it’s coming from a demon. 

Katya stops by her home to wash the blood off her face and change her clothes. Even though she left Trixie at the park all of ten minutes ago, she worries the girl will be gone when she returns. 

She does return, this time with her car. And blessed be, Trixie still sits on that same swing. The girl stands up to ask, “I thought you said you lived nearby. Why not just walk me back to your place?”

Katya smiles. “I thought we’d give your feet a break.”

Trixie seems to remember the pain in her toes and she limps over to Katya’s black mercedes while holding her dirty pumps in her hands. 

Even as the girl’s scent permeates the interior of her mercedes, even as she can smell the blood in the micro-tears on Trixie’s feet, Katya thinks: _this will be fine. I’ll take her home, give her a place to rest, to shower, and then she can return to her life._

The gnarled, froglike demon on Katya’s shoulder took a deep hit off a vintage cigar. “Yeah,” he croaked. “I’m sure it’ll work out juuuuust fine.”


	2. Quarantined with the Vampire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trixie's one-night-crash on Katya's couch is lengthened indefinitely when the world stops dead in its tracks.

The morning after their first meeting when Trixie awoke, Katya heard the girl’s heart and breathing start to race. She didn’t need a psychic connection to imagine what she was thinking: where am I? How did I get here? How long have I been sleeping? What’s that smell?

Katya smiled, her sensitive ears keying into the tic-tic-tic of the timer on her toaster (which she had bought while Trixie was asleep) and her bloodhound-level nostrils reveled in the scent of bread in the oven. She also had coffee brewing in her near-ancient BakeLite kettle. Katya herself found comfort in these scents, though she didn’t have nearly the enjoyment of the food stuffs. To have a human guest whose reactions to taste she could take second hand pleasure in, was a treat Katya didn’t intend to squander. 

Trixie pulled herself up on the couch. Katya had given her the L section and every quilt and knit blanket she still owned. The girl wouldn’t believe it if she asked where Katya bought such items. Family heirlooms, she would have said. _I definitely didn’t spend Hitlers siege of Leningrad sucking the blood out of emaciated rats and giving what meat there was to my landlady, all the while putting my limited energy into the very quilt you have balled up between your knees._

“Good morning,” Katya says, making sure to keep her voice in a lower register. 

Trixie turns, her eyes bleary and grains of sleep sand clinging to her lashes. “Wuh?”

“I said, ‘Good morning!’” Katya beams, bringing over the tray which came with her coffee maker. Everything had been plated in chrome when she’d obtained them, but art deco had never been Katya’s style. It was too masculine for her liking, too angular. So, she’d used tools to carve and etch sprawling spirals into the material, and rough down the surface to make it less reflective. 

Trixie seemed too fond of pink to be a black coffee drinker, so Katya had taken the trouble to go out and fetch local cream and sugar. These Katya used to fill the little canisters which came with the set; she had to chase a sun spider out of one of the things when she first picked it up. She’d let the little guy crawl into one of the many plants she kept around the house. _“You’ve always liked keeping these short-lived pets around the house,”_ sneers her Demon. _“This girl is nothing more than another fine orchid for your collection. At least this orchid has a beating heart to devour._ “

 _No_ , she thinks back. _I don’t do that anymore. She’s a temporary guest in my house, not a live-in blood whore_. Katya keeps her smile even and her actions light as she sets the tray down on the coffee table beside her guest. She taps a finger over each of the containers, lifts the top off of the sugar bowl, places the teaspoon inside. Trixie wipes her hand across her face, her brows stretching far into her forehead. 

“Is there something wrong?” Katya asks. “I have toast in the thing, it should--”

_Ding!_

“That’ll be it.” Katya straightens and walks back around the other side of the sofa. “Do you want butter, jam, marmalade? I’ll just bring them all.”

Trixie doesn’t say anything, but Katya reasons this is likely due to humans’ not reaching full intellectual capability until they have been awake for some time, or else stimulated with some drug like caffeine or other potent substances. 

For one history class, Trixie’s class had watched FDR address the nation after Pearl Harbor. The instructor had tried to get them to imagine what it would be like to have that kind of earth-shaking revelation occur in their lifetime, that you knew something was bad, and you on some level knew the announcement was coming, but once it happens it makes it all horrifyingly real. Trixie only kinda remembers 9/11. Even then, not really. She vaguely remembers when Bush did a press conference declaring war on Iraq. Or Iran. She was in junior high when Bin-Laden was killed, and in school that morning they sang ‘ding-dong! Bin-Laden’s dead!’ before classes started.

The SARS virus in China had been in the news, on the map. There was some shadiness with the Chinese government not being super transparent about numbers and silencing whistleblowers (they’re China, it’s what they do). Lunar New Year was a thing and it was expected that more people who traveled for the festivals would spread the new virus. Flights were at an all time low rate, tickets were so cheap a few people were taking advantage of it. Mostly people were staying where they were, stocking up on shit. Dry pasta, toilet paper, hand sanitizer. They kept saying ‘it hasn't been declared a pandemic yet’ until like, yesterday or a few days ago it was. But nobody really knew… even what the symptoms were. Nobody knew how long it lasted on surfaces or if you could get an infected Amazon package. Her mom was definitely worried and it was a topic of conversation at work but… 

She received an email from her bosses -- both of them. Saying that in keeping with the WHO and CDC’s guidelines, they’d be stopping business. It was truly weird how similar the emails were, how they were worded, how they were structured. So many paragraphs to say ‘we don’t know. We have no answers for you. When we know, you’ll know but we don’t know.’ It was… impossible for Trixie to continue going through her suitcase, trash bags and boxes at this point. 

Katya-- and her friends Kim and Shea-- had convinced Trixie to go over to the apartment and get her stuff today, move out while Kyle was at work. ‘So you won’t be tempted to move back in’ Shea had said. And Trixie knew she was right. Looking at the bag full of dirty clothes, Trixie felt like it was way too big of a chore. Part of her brain was knocking against the walls telling her “you have to come up with a living situation, buy a bus ticket, see if they’re still running, if they are go home to Wisconsin or get a hotel find out whose couch you can stay on…” The much bigger part of her brain was stagnant. She didn’t have enough energy to think about these things. She just sat on this kind stranger’s couch, staring into the carpet. 

She didn’t know how long she’d been staring and doing nothing, but eventually Katya came to check on her. “Hi,” she smiled. “Weight of memories got you down?”

Trixie tried to process Katya’s question but couldn’t really understand. “I um,” she tried. “I think I just lost both my jobs.”

Katya reacted, asking what she meant. Trixie tried to put thoughts together to translate the nothing emails, but all she felt was tired. So tired. She couldn’t think, wouldn’t let herself think because it wasn’t good. Katya asked if she could read the email and Trixie pulled it up on her phone. The woman only looked for a second and handed it back. “Yeah,” Trixie said. “No point in reading the whole thing. It’s a ton of nothing.”

Katya brought a laptop from her bedroom upstairs and plopped herself down on the couch next to Trixie. Just having Katya there made her feel less lost. She couldn’t fully disengage in favor of staring at the wall, she had to be aware in case Katya talked to her. Trixie wasn’t gonna be rude. “Well,” Katya says after a while. “That settles that.”

Trixie says nothing. 

“Bet you’re happy you moved out today, huh,” says Katya.

Trixie forces half a smile. “I guess so.” She kicks one of the boxes. “I can’t afford a hotel,” she says quietly, mostly to herself.

Katya stands. “Why would you go to a hotel?” 

Trixie looks up at her. “I mean I can’t stay _here_.”

Katya makes a face and shakes her head. “Why ever not?”

“I…” Trixie holds out a limp hand. “Because.”

Katya goes over to her laptop and highlights a section of text, spins it around to show Trixie. “Shelter-in-Place order,” Katya recites. “This is the place you’re at. You’ll shelter-in here.”

“But…it’s not fair to you.” 

Katya held up her hands. “I live alone, I got no wife, no husband, no kids, no dog. Also this last eighteen hours you’ve spent in my presence has me reminded that I am _very_ lonely.” Katya continued to smile through her humorous honesty. “I _want_ you to stay. Who knows how long this shelter-in-place thing will last? At least two weeks, I’m sure of that. Possibly a month-- who knows!”

Trixie slumped at the thought of a month just… stuck. 

Suddenly there was a cold hand on top of hers. Katya had leaned all the way forward. Her face was now very close. Her eyes were very blue. “Your stuff is all here,” Katya said quietly, looking at the pile of boxes and bags next to Trixie’s Barbie pink plastic suitcase. 

“Please stay.” Something about the way Katya says it, it sounds like a plea. 

And Trixie didn’t have to do any of that big thinking to answer. She wouldn’t have to find a bus that was running or stuff her shit in a suitcase or find a flight. She wouldn’t have to slink back home to Wisconsin. It wouldn’t last forever, it couldn’t. At last she turned to Katya. “Okay.”

Katya was good about making sure Trixie ate meals. She was kinda like a mom-- or like Trixie’s grandparents, more like. Katya was super understanding, with those icy blue eyes and she was good with silence. Which was good, since Trixie kinda couldn’t handle much more than occasional conversation right now. By the end of the first couple of days though, Trixie started to notice stuff about her new roommate. Like how she was always baking bread, but never eating any. Or how she inexplicably knew how to create these nice meals, and served herself, but Trixie never noticed Katya actually chewing. She figured out that Katya would take a bite of whatever she had served if Trixie stared at her long enough. 

Katya didn’t have any streaming accounts, which amazed Trixie more than it probably should have considering she herself grew up without cable. Not having Netflix was abnormal nowadays, especially when everyone and their mom was talking about _Tiger King_ . Trixie hadn’t thought to grab the fire stick from the TV back at their-- _Kyle’s_ place. Thankfully, Katya had a pile of useless cords in a box under a collection of VHS tapes, and in that mess was an HDMI cord. With prayer and ingenuity, Trixie was able to rig up Katya’s television to her computer so they could watch this dumb show together just so they could participate in conversation. 

While Trixie was vegging out on the sofa, Katya was there too, her fingers working away at a collection of fabric squares sewn together. Trixie watched her for a while. 

“D’you need anything?” asked Katya, clearly aware she was being watched. 

“Nah,” Trixie rests her head on her fist. “My grandma used to quilt. They were really nice. They were the best in winter in Wisconsin.” 

Katya smiles. “Did she ever teach you?”

“She tried.” Trixie looks away. “I was more interested in Nintendo and trying to steal my cousin’s Barbies.” 

Their eyes met in the quiet afternoon. Trixie motioned toward Katya’s lap, where fabric folded over itself, spreading this way and that. “Can I see?”

“Oh,” Katya’s voice broke. “Sure.” She grabbed the material and fanned it out. Upon closer inspection, the quilt was even more intricate than what Trixie’s grandma had made. This tessellation was made up of isosceles triangles fitted into houndstooth-like patterns all evenly laid out. The pattern was busy but the fabrics were relatively simple-- plaid being the most complicated print. Even unfinished, it was obvious how special this thing was gonna be when Katya was done with it. “It would go faster with a sewing machine,” Katya said, almost like she was making up excuses.

Trixie scoffed. “Mama, right now we’ve got nothin’ but time.”

Katya shrugged in agreement and a quiet moment passed between them. 

Eventually, Trixie asked, ”Is it hard?”

Katya scowled noncommittally, bending her head to either side. “This pattern is complex, but quilting in general?” She shook her head. “‘S not so bad. Do you know how to sew a hem?”

Trixie nods. “We had a lot of holes in our clothes. I’d tear a pair of pants or a long sleeved shirt and Mom or Grandma would pull me aside and show me how they fixed it. 

Katya smiled, that barely-there smile. “That’s how I learned.” After another pause Katya said, “Do you want me to grab a spare needle and scrap material? You could learn, like you said, we’ve got time.”

“No, you don’t have to do that,” Trixie starts to refuse. 

Katya moves her work-in-progress and the rest of her things from her lap. “I’d rather just let you try it out than have you still breathing down my neck for the next week.”

Trixie opens her mouth, only to close it again. Katya’s back quickly enough with a hatbox of shreds of all kinds of fabrics. “I didn’t thread your needle for you,” says Katya. “Do you need me to?”

Trixie takes the sewing needle and spool of brown thread from Katya. “Honestly, the last time I ripped a pair of jeans at the thigh, it fully took me an hour to thread the needle.” 

Katya scoffs in disgust. “Well, it better not take you that long this time.”

Trixie nods. She takes the end of the thread in one hand and the needle in the other. She slides the thread at the eye of the needle, only to have the end curl away from the hole when she does. Twice. 

“Oh, God dammit, Tracy!” Katya scolds, leaning over to take the needle and thread away from her. 

“I am _trying!”_ Trixie defends, cackling. 

Katya grips Trixie’s wrist. “Look. you _need_ to stop embarrassing me.”

Trixie scream-laughed. “There’s no one else here!!!”

“I know,” Katya chortled. “I know this and still. Your incompetence in this basic task is _astounding_.”

Trixie flings her right leg over her left and flaps her hands, leaving her wrists limp. “Oh I put the ass in ‘ass-tounding,’ oh honey!”

Katya’s laughter makes no noise but she beats her fist against the couch next to Trixie. 

“Oh hoooneeeyyyyy,” Trixie repeats for emphasis, sending Katya rolling over on her back, feet kicking in the air. 

After a minute of watching Katya flail, Trixie says, “What _ever_ whore, did you fucking thread the needle for me or not?”

“Yes I did,” Katya rasped. “Yes, I did!”

As Katya recovered from her fit, Trixie noticed that any other person as pale as Katya would be beet-red after laughing like that. But Katya was just as chalky as ever. 

As it turned out, Trixie wasn’t bad at quilting, once someone threaded her needle for her. She and Katya spent their days mostly on the couch, half-paying attention to whatever Netflix show they were watching, their hands going about the meditative task of hand-stitching. 

“Why do I feel like a pioneer housewife?” Trixie joked. “Like, ‘oh this is me, doing the only thing I can while I wait for my husband Jedediah to come back from terrorizing Indigenous peoples under the banner of the newly-formed United States government’.”

Katya cackled. She gestured with her hand cutting across her throat. “That’s too real,” she squealed. “That’s too real!”

“I grew up on a reservation, Helen, I _know_ how real it is!” Trixie play-snapped in Katya’s direction. “And you know what else is real? The fact that this cunt is like ‘oh i wanna be a good person’ then immediately switches to ‘I think I’ll be the Queen of Hell’ in NO time flat.” Trixie points to the face of Sabrina Spellman with her bleach blonde bob on the TV. Within the first thirty-eight hours of quarantine, Trixie had figured out that making Katya laugh until she couldn't breathe or stand was one of her favorite pastimes. Now she tried to do it as often as she could. 

And yet still, that weird thing where no matter how out of breath Katya seemed, she never got flushed at all.


	3. A Bloody Miracle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katya comes out of the coffin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one's on the shorter end but I mostly need it to exist so we can get to chapter 4 which is honestly the whole reason I wrote anything past chapter 1

The first week after the lockdown began, Katya started to plan. It was hard, because suddenly everyone had time to foster and adopt animals and the shelters were empty, which meant hardly any animals -- even sick or elderly ones -- were available for her to spoil and then send off into the next world. She did manage to get access to a dying, heavily inbred cat, but it’s blood tasted almost rancid, and Katya felt uncomfortable, queasy and uncertain in the six hours that followed. She hoped Trixie wouldn’t be offended that she was keeping her distance today, but what she really didn’t want was to throw up blood and cat hair in front of her human guest. That would surely spark a conversation she _really_ didn’t want to have.

There was also… another complication, which provided another ticking clock for her friendship with Trixie. Trixie, being a young human woman in peak childbearing age, would start to bleed at some point. Katya could sense that the red tide was coming, and she didn’t really know what she was going to do about it. Usually a menstruating woman would get her a little… bothered, in public, but there’s almost always other scents and sensory input to distract her. But Trixie was in her house, her scent was everywhere, even Katya’s room, which her visitor to this day had not been inside. 

Now, Trixie learning to quilt meant that she’d poked herself with sewing pins and the needle no shortage of a hundred times, so Katya had some level of tolerance to the girl’s blood. But a pinprick would be nothing in comparison to the tsunami which would take over her senses and possibly, horrifically, unleash the Demon inside. _Get it over with now then,_ it whispered. _Go down there and snap her neck, let that hot, human blood spill down your throat and down your front, let yourself bathe in--_

“No.” Katya stood ramrod straight in the middle of her room. She looked at her ghostly reflection in the volcanic glass slab on her dresser. “I have to ask her to leave.”

No.

That’s the last thing she wanted to do. Absolute last thing. She knew it was against everything she knew to be wise, prudent, acceptable. But she couldn’t turn her onto the street. And she couldn’t let her move in with anyone else! That’s… the opposite of okay. That can’t happen. And the fact that the very idea of Trixie not being there sent her spiraling, meant she was _attached_. God, how could she be so stupid. Attachments, attachments, attachments, Katya knew better than to forge one of those, they cause nothing but misery. She caught another glance of herself in the black mirror. “And yet,” she said to herself. “Here you are.”

“Who’s that?”

Katya spun around at full speed. The hallway door was wide open and Trixie was there. Of course she was. In all her luster, that blonde hair with the stupid pink streak she’d insisted on doing to herself night before last, pigment already falling out onto pillows and shirts. Blue eyes wide and curious, her back bent as if to peek around Katya, looking for who she was speaking to.

And it was that sting of attachment, that pull of pining that bypassed Katya’s good sense, taking control of her mouth and her voice. “I need to tell you something.”

Trixie reacted skeptically. “O… kay?”

Katya crossed the room and took Trixie by the wrist, bringing her over to sit on the reupholstered ottoman which stood at the foot of her bed "I have something very important to tell you, and I don't know how you're gonna take it, but please just listen. you don't need to have an immediate reaction--"

Trixie looked up at her with vague sincerity. "Girl I know you're gay for me." 

"I…” Katya tripped over her words as she processed Trixie’s assumption. Instead of refuting her, which well, she couldn’t do, she managed only to say, “That's not it."

Trixie’s brows lifted. "You _don't_ have a crush on me?"

"No, I don't. I mean I don’t not--” Katya grabbed a fistfull of hair. “Whatever, what I'm trying to say is, I'm a vampire."

"... Okay." 

Katya searched for some tell in her roommate, shaking hands, blanching features, the sound of sped up breathing… anything. Anything at all. But this girl… _did she hear? Did she hear me say I’m a vampire? A literal rotted gutted undead demon??_ "okAY??? That's, that’s all you have to say???"

Trixie spread her hands. "I mean, I've had worse."

"WORSE than-- I'm not joking bitch! I'm really a vampire. D’you need me to whip out my fangs and prove it??" Since Trixie was so shockingly unable to take the subject seriously, Katya pushed her tongue against the roof of her mouth hard enough that her canines crunched down like instant stalactites. They slightly punctured her bottom lip. “See?”

Trixie tilted her head, glancing at Katya’s elongated pointed teeth. Katya expected her to stare, to be disgusted, to run away in horror, into the streets unprotected from The Virus. 

Instead, the girl continued to baffle the centuries old vampire by shrugging. "Mm. I kinda thought you were.”

Katya shakes her head, letting out a sharp-edged laugh that sounded more like a shriek. “ _What_?”

"I mean I’ve never seen you actually _eat._ Plus you always stay inside, but I thought you were just afraid of skin cancer."

Katya’s voice pitches up. "You're not??? Scared?"

“Of skin cancer? I mean kinda--”

“OF **ME**!” Katya roared.

Trixie smiled, her heart thudding in her chest. She let out that strained, dying bird laugh that had startled Katya so badly when she first heard it that night. It had only been like a month ago, not even that long, and yet it felt like a lifetime had passed. 

Trixie’s smile was wide and her palms were spread when she squawked "I mean not really no."

Katya honked out a single, stunned laugh and dropped down to sit next to Trixie. Time passed. Katya suddenly looked at Trixie and told her, “You’re gonna start your period soon.”

“Yeah?” Trixie scowled a little and leaned away. “Is that gonna be a problem?”

Katya looked down at Trixie’s feet. “I… don’t know.”

Trixie stared at Katya matter-of-factly. “I’m not gonna feel comfortable staying here if you’re gonna try and suck the blood out my vagina.”

Katya shook her head and made an _x_ with her hands. “Oh no, no problem,” she lied. 

“Okay good,” Trixie eased up. “‘Cause I was gonna try a Diva cup but I also haven’t gotten fucked for a long time, so we’ll see.”

“What?!” Katya flailed. “What?? What did you just say?”

Trixie folded her hands on her knee and stared sideways at Katya. “You heard me.”

“I wish I hadn’t!!” Katya shrieked. “I wish I hadn’t.”


	4. Katya's Wake Up Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trixie looked over at her and recoiled, momentarily spooked by Katya’s ghoulish expression. “Jesus,” she whispered. “What are you smiling at?”
> 
> Katya forced her mouth to resolve into a less offensive state. “Only, it’s not every day you get to watch someone become radicalized.”

It’s around the time that some states are reopening, a month or so into the lockdown when Trixie’s group chat lit up in response to a news story. It was grotesque, there was video, and while there was no blood or gore, unlike some of the other caught-on-camera viral videos showing police brutality, it may actually have been the worst thing Trixie had ever seen. Katya listened in to the volume; Trixie kept it low so as not to disturb her, likely out of habit. There’s a chorus of voices yelling “Get off of him!” “He says he can’t breathe!” “Man, what the fuck?” “Check his pulse! I’m an EMT/firefighter, check his pulse!” “He’s not even fighting, man!” “Man, you’re killing him! He’s killing him!” 

Katya paced around to get a better view of whatever was happening on Trixie’s screen. The girl has gone starch white, with a little green hue. “Again?” Katya asks.

Trixie shakes her head, pauses the video and logs out of it, back into her group message with her friends. “He fucking died,” Trixie says. Her tone is low, carrying multiple stages of grief in three words. Breathiness of disbelief, monotone acceptance, strain a mixture of sadness and anger. Trixie closes her eyes and sets her jaw. Katya hears her heart speed up. She sits a few feet away from Trixie, letting her do whatever she needs to. “The man kneeled on his fucking neck for nine minutes until he fucking died. On video. In front of a _crowd_ of civilians. _And_ other officers and they did. **_Nothing_ **.”

Katya hasn’t seen a human become truly angry in a long time. She’d seen humans frustrated, afraid, sad, contemptuous, mincing. What she watched Trixie’s face and body go through in these few moments, she committed to memory. And she feels the energy and the power and the righteous wrath wafting off the girl who loved barbies and vintage fashion and upbeat folk music. And she sensed within Trixie, a kind of internal cosmic shift. 

Katya’s senses proved to be right, as in the hours and days that followed, she watched Trixie furiously texting her friends, getting angry, getting sad, getting fed up and frustrated and finally, the part that mattered. Trixie funneled her anger into action. The Russian vampire was unable to help the wide smile spreading across her cheeks. All her teeth would be showing, she must look like a mad woman, but she refused to hide her pride for the girl. 

Trixie looked over at her and recoiled, momentarily spooked by Katya’s ghoulish expression. “Jesus,” she whispered. “What are you smiling at?”

Katya forced her mouth to resolve into a less offensive state. “Only, it’s not every day you get to watch someone become radicalized.”

Trixie gives Katya a side-eye. “I don’t know what that means.”

Katya shifted on the couch, having become quite stiff, revelling in second-hand spirit. “You remember I was turned in Moscow.” 

Trixie nodded. 

“To this day,” Katya shook her head. “I love a revolution. I love watching them happen. Sometimes they fail, sometimes they succeed. Only time will tell.”

“Do you really think this will be a revolution?” Trixie looked at Katya, a softness about her. 

“I sincerely hope so,” Katya admitted. “And, it’s not without precedent. This Floyd is not the first martyr to raise public sympathy.”

“Won’t be the last either,” Trixie says gravely, her hands curling into fists.

“Probably not,” says Katya. “But depending how things go, he could be the first of the last.”

Trixie takes a breath and looks back at Katya. “What do we have to do?”

“You?” Katya says. “Are not the oppressed. Allies yield to the oppressed. Follow. Use your privilege to benefit the oppressed.”

Trixie looks down, nodding. She chews her lip. Katya turns her head away from the scent of the blood on her lip. After a while, Trixie stands up. “Come with me,” she says.

“What?”

Trixie starts pulling her hair up. “There’s a protest starting downtown. Grab a mask and come with me.”

Katya falters. “It’s almost dusk.”

“Exactly.” Trixie rifles through her things and starts packing a bag. “You said yourself you love revolution.”

Katya shakes her head, her brows creasing. “Trixie, these things get ugly at night, it isn’t safe--”

“It wasn’t safe for George Floyd in broad ass daylight with fifty people watching and it wasn't safe for Breonna Taylor in her goddamn bed asleep at midnight,” Trixie spat.

Katya took a measured breath. “I understand your rage, and it’s warranted.”

“Then come with me!” Trixie exclaims. “You can be my Batman, lurking in the shadows, watching out for threats.” She huffs out a breath. “Look, come or don’t come. I’m a grown ass woman and you won’t keep me here, I’m going.”

Katya’s hand suddenly on her shoulder startled Trixie. “Sorry,” Katya breathed. “And I wouldn’t force you to stay here.” She looked away. “For any reason.” 

Trixie was silent.

Katya looked up at her once more. “How are you getting downtown?”

Trixie hesitated. “Was gonna ask a friend for a carpool.”

In the blink of an eye, Katya was back, now holding the key to her Mercedes. “Let me drive you down there.”

Trixie smiled slightly. “Okay.”

On the drive downtown, Trixie tried to come up with ideas for how Katya could help without risking ‘exposing herself’ -- as a vampire, not a nudist. Though that might be a nice police distraction. Katya had already shot down the prospect of hypnotizing cops to turn on their own brothers, that would lead to questioning, not to mention deaths of officers would get pinned on the revolutionaries. Protestors, Trixie had corrected. Whatever.

“Issue is,” Katya admits. “Psychic tricks take a lot of energy.”

“Energy that you don’t have,” Trixie surmises. “Since you’re an anemic vampire or whatever.”

Katya shoots her a look.

“All I’m saying is you didn’t drink all that much, and if tonight goes like you predict, there’ll be plenty of bastard cops for you to eat.”

Katya cackled. “I don’t want any part of those pigs inside of me.”

“Valid.” Trixie snorted, starting to color in the block lettering on her cardboard ‘No Justice No Peace’ sign. “Anyway you could still… I dunno, smell trouble a-brewing?”

“What?!” Katya sputtered. “What?? I’m a vampire, not a Basset Hound!!!”

Trixie screamed. “You know what I mean!!”

They neared downtown, and could kinda see where people were congregating. A few cop cars dotted the area, but there didn’t seem to be any conflict yet. Nevertheless, Katya sensed this relative peace would come to an end within the hour. Katya pulled up to a parking garage and opened her car door. Within the blink of an eye, she swung the door closed again. Through the windshield, Trixie watched the robotic arm lift the reflective gate out of the way. She stared at her incredulously. 

Katya side-eyed her. “What?”

Trixie blinked. “Did you… magic… the robot to let us in?”

“Of course not.” Katya rolled her eyes. “It’s not _magic,_ it’s hacking.”

Trixie leaned her back against the passenger window so she could face Katya more aggressively. “What kinda Sandra Bullock The Net backstory you got to be a _vampire_ hacker?!” 

Katya smacked the steering wheel cackling. “The internet’s been around for half a century, that’s brand new for my kind-- I know people who won’t ride in cars cause they don’t trust modern technology. Since I jumped on the trend back in the AOL days I’m the de facto vampire tech support for half the continent.”

“Oh my god.” Trixie shook her head. “How many viruses have your people gotten from downloading vampire porn?”

Disgust crossed over Katya’s face. “Vampire porn is so fake I can’t even watch it. But to your question, I have had bloodsuckers show up on my doorstep holding their whole unplugged computer set like ‘this blasted device refuses to cooperate if you can’t salvage it I’m throwing it into the bay.”

Trixie pursed her lips. “Technology's like that sometimes.”

Katya walked with Trixie until she saw her friends. When Trixie went to introduce her, she found only air in the vampire’s place. “Who was that?” Kim had asked. 

Trixie brushed off her slight embarrassment and betrayal at the fact she’d been real-life ghosted. “Just my Lyft driver,” she said. “A middle aged mom worried about my safety, she said she’d go back to her car once I caught up with my group. Anyway,” she led the conversation to checking off their list. She had brought the sign she’d made. Shea handed Trixie and Kim matching cloth masks she’d sewn and decorated at home. Kim had the first aid kit.

From the roof of a nearby 7-11, Katya watched the young women prepare for battle. Or what they hoped would be a peaceful protest, but knew would likely devolve into chaos. It warmed the cockles of her calcified, unbeating heart to see so many young people coming together in defense of people they didn’t even know. Most of this crowd was light-skinned, as a matter of fact. And they still seemed to feel so deeply for their dark complected neighbors. It could also be true that they were mad for a reason to leave their homes after being cooped up for so long, and knew that to jeopardize the health of the community there had to be a legitimate reason to take such a risk. 

It was a good excuse. Katya listened to the hundreds of beating hearts present, and she followed the procession from afar. And with the signs pleading to ‘wake up’ she did feel like she was stepping out of a daze. A daze of impotence and complacency. Katya realized in her years, though she had sworn to herself long ago that she would never become like Those Vampires, disaffected statues who had forgotten their humanity… she had. She had become that, to some extent. But Trixie. Trixie had been her wake up call. This girl had been placed in Katya’s path to bring her back to humanity, to reconnect her with the world. 

The actions she takes later on in the night are simple decisions. She sniffs out undercover officers and pulls them away from the crowd, nibbles on them, hands them alcohol and has them drink while they are still under her spell. Katya dislikes killing and hurting people, but plainclothes enforcement officers are her best option. Actual outfitted agents would be too conspicuous to feed on, and she most definitely wasn’t about to harm any of these civilian protesters-- that would put her on the oppressor’s side, completely negating her purpose here. It’s a rush that Katya hasn’t felt in a long while, the prospect of helping the human race, and she doesn’t even have to kill anyone. 

She hears telltale rasping as the beginning of an asthma attack within juvenile lungs, tastes the first gas canister being released. Katya bolts toward those seizing lungs, picks up the child and physically carries him two blocks down next to a woman with a gaggle of children outside a church. “You okay, baby?” the mother asks, hearing the kid struggling to breathe. “Ty, give him your chair. Sit down, baby, try to take deep breaths, where’s your mom?”

Katya returns to the front line. There’s hissing and screaming and yelling and things being thrown-- bricks. Katya follows where the bricks are coming from-- an easily accessible, not even slightly secured pile. She needs another nibble first, but in the next ten minutes, the bricks disappear, relocated to the roof of a nearby empty building.

She hides more things. Gas canisters, guns, batons; scattering them in various hiding places until she can pick them up and properly dispose of them later. Then, she keys into a particular shriek, from a voice she has come to memorize over the past months. Trixie isn’t badly injured, more caught off-guard. There was a shove, not directed at her, rather at someone who fell against someone else, domino style. She and her friends are more toward the curb and nearby parking lot than the buildings, and they are a fair way behind from where the scuffle is. People are running back through the procession, causing confusion and panic. Trixie flails her arms and topples sideways. Katya moves without thinking, and suddenly she’s right there, hands under Trixie’s arms, hauling her to her feet again. 

“Wha--” Trixie manages. “Where did--?”

“Best way to avoid being trampled. Get off the ground.” Katya asserts. 

From a few paces up ahead, Trixie’s friend Shea notices they lost her. “Trixie?” she calls.

The girl turns toward her name. “I’m here, I just--” she turns back toward Katya, only to find the vampire ghosted again. She takes a second to pout before following back up with her friends. 

Trixie’s friends drop her off at Katya’s place in the early morning. When she steps inside, she is tackled by Katya in a hug. “uh-AAH!”

“Thank you thank you thank you thank you--” Katya says over and over. 

“Gah- _what?”_ Trixie whines. 

Katya releases her human ward from the embrace but keeps her hands on the girl’s shoulders. “I woke up! I didn’t really wanna go to this thing tonight but you convinced me and thank you so much for dragging me along I feel like I’ve been snapped out of a daze I have a renewed sense of purpose now! And it’s all thanks to you!”

“Well, you’re welcome. I’m glad you had a nice time.” Trixie kicks her shoes off and plops down on the couch. She looks up at Katya’s flushed cheeks -- well, flushed for a vampire anyway. “So I see you fed?”

Katya nods. “I nibbled. On a couple people-- undercover agents, all of ‘em.”

“Good, good,” Trixie says. She pulls her bra off under her top and spreads out on the couch. 

“Oh, yes you need to rest up of course,” Katya babbles. “One thing before you do though? You can totally say no by the way.”

Trixie lolls her head to one side. “Sure, what?”

Katya sits on the edge of the couch and reaches toward Trixie’s right arm, where she had broken her fall on that stumble, a slight case of road rash scratched up her ivory skin. It wasn’t even bleeding anymore, but still. “I know you said I’m not allowed to eat your period. But please, Trixie, can I pretty please lick your wound?”

Trixie scoffs and extends her arm. “Fucking, why not? Have at it you weirdo.”

“Really???” Katya’s eyes light up. “I promise I won’t make it worse I’ll only clean it up--”

“I know you won’t, just do it,” Trixie says with an eye roll. 

“You’re the best.”

“I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i did my best to represent the protest and the general situation respectfully and avoid white savior-ing katya's character. she's not a hero, she's just There. trying to be respectful is why this chapter took so long, i wanted to make double and triple sure as a white person the scene not only serves the story/characters but also the real life conflict that persists to this day.  
> Arrest Brett Hankinson, Myles Cosgrove, and Jonathan Mattingly for the murder of Breonna Taylor. Black lives matter. Trans rights are human rights. Drink plenty of water. Stay healthy out there fam.


End file.
